


Congratulations, By The Way

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Sad Ending, Sherlock Holmes and Feelings, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One shot set in HLV. Sherlock is feeling very alone because of the Watsons being away on their honeymoon, and also because he's afraid he's lost a chance he only recently knew he wanted with Molly Hooper. What if Sherlock decided to tell her? How could things have turned out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Congratulations, By The Way

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned! This is sad and angsty. I don't usually go without a warm fuzzy ending, but that's what I did with this. This is the result of a prompt from Tumblr name efullgent who wanted something sad, and also from whiddlesmort who wanted something based on the song "Congratulations" by Blue October. I do highly recommend you listen to it, it's really beautiful. And the fic may just be more meaningful if you've heard the song. Hope you enjoy the feels fest! ;D

Sherlock glanced at the window behind him from where he sat in his chair. It was finally dark. These days, he felt better once it got dark at night. Summer didn't suit him because it took too long. He had to wait till almost nine at night for the comfort of darkness. Till then he was forced to be surrounded by warmth and sunshine and faces, all of which did nothing but remind him of the fact that he felt cold...and lonely.

It had been two weeks since John and Mary's wedding, and likely they would be home from their honeymoon soon. Not that it would make much of s difference. Things were different now, and the fact that the Watsons were back from their little vacation didn't do much to change that. It didn't change the fact that Sherlock was alone again. He'd been alone before. It wasn't anything new, not really. But he felt it now, because he knew what it was like to have people all around who loved him. And it wasn't just John and Mary that were plaguing his heart.

 _She_ was gone now.

He'd never really had her, so he knew better than to think of it in terms of losing. He supposed that he hadn't really lost her. It was more like he had lost the _chance_ of her. Had he really ever wanted that chance till recently? No, he knew he hadn't, if he was honest.

Even when he'd gone away and he'd been so grateful for all the help she had offered, he hadn't wanted to get down on bended knee and tell her how much he loved her, or give her a kiss before they parted. Sherlock knew that he had done what was all too common for him. He took her for granted.

He hadn't even thought much about what he would do when he returned to London and saw Molly again. To anyone else that might have sounded cold, and perhaps it was. But for him, it was only because he never even considered the possibility that things would go the way they did. He never in a million years considered the possibility that he'd see her walk into Bart's locker room and immediately realize that she was now engaged.

It was only in the moment that he realized this, that he became consciously aware of what he'd actually been hoping for in their reunion. It all flashed before his eyes. He was shocked to imagine holding her tight in his arms, whispering his repeated thanks into her ear, pressing kisses to her cheek, telling her how much he had missed her and that seeing her had just made his homecoming all the more real. He only saw those things in the moment he knew that he couldn't do that.

Sherlock knew what sort of power he held when it came to Molly Hooper. It had shifted of course, in the more recent years. He used to hold a more all-encompassing power over here, being able to make her do almost anything with a simple compliment and warm look. He knew better than to try a stunt like that anymore. But that didn't mean he meant nothing to her, and that she wasn't at all moved by him. Given all of that, taking her in his arms was no longer an option. It was ironic, because now, there was nothing he wanted to do more.

He couldn't bring himself to broach the subject of her engagement till the end of that day they'd spent together though. He selfishly wanted her there, wanted to enjoy the day, and wanted to thank her most of all. The thought of bringing up this other man tainted the day. He almost pushed the subject away completely, and he would have if she'd immediately accepted his dinner invitation. He would have taken her to that fish shop, they'd have talked and eaten and laughed, and he would never have brought up this offensive mystery man unless she had decided to.

But that was not how things had turned out.

He had immediately deduced that the invitation to dinner, although she was pleasantly surprised by the offer, made her hesitate. And at the first sign of her hesitation, Sherlock took the preemptive strike and said what might be too difficult for her to say herself.

_You can't do this again, can you?_

As soon as the words left his mouth, he'd seen that he was right. She couldn't do this again. She clearly wasn't sure that it was appropriate. She wasn't sure she could handle it.

In hindsight, he almost felt guilty to have leaned down and pressed that barely restrained kiss to her pink cheek. Perhaps he should have done her a favor...done _himself_ a favor...and shown no emotion at all. He could have. He could have put on an unreadable expression, thanked her for her help that day, and walked away. He could have done without the longing gaze and heated kiss. Perhaps it was an act of rebellion in that moment.

You can't do this again, but I'm still going to make you question everything before I walk away.

Sherlock shot out of his chair, pushing himself up with the arm rests. He walked over to the mantel and lifted up the skull. He picked up the small set of three keys on a metal ring. It was adorned with only a simple metal skull keychain. The three keys were to the lab, the morgue, and Molly's flat. He had never really told her how much her Christmas gift from years ago had meant to him. But it had meant everything. She was essentially letting him into her entire life. Here you go, here's unlimited access to me and my entire life! Of course, you could say she was simply sick of him breaking into said locations, but he knew it was deeper than that.

It wasn't gone, he knew it wasn't. The feelings that had moved her to gift him access to every part of her world had not simply fizzled away. Although their friendship had evolved, the way she looked at him had remained. He was a fool if he didn't see that. Her eyes told a story far deeper than a ring she wore on her finger.

He stuck the small set of keys in his pocket, but made no move yet to go anywhere. He continued walking about his flat, thinking almost violently. He began to reason in a direction that he hadn't allowed himself to up till now. Till now, he'd been wallowing in a bit of pity. He'd been focusing on the loss. Suddenly though, as he began to think more and more about how sure he was of her lingering feelings. His resolve strengthened as the moments passed, and as his pulse began to speed up, he promised himself that he would not sit back and watch as Molly did this.

"No," he suddenly said aloud.

Just like that, Sherlock shot out the door. He made his way to the street in order to hail a cab. It was time to take a drive...to Molly's.

He was surprised at how nervous he felt as the cab neared her building. He knew exactly what he was doing, and although he didn't know what the future held for him and Molly, he knew that it had to be _them._ He couldn't let her leave him like this. She didn't want to leave him...he was sure of it.

Sherlock paid the cab driver and told him he could leave. He wasn't being presumptuous, but he couldn't imagine this being a five minute visit. He could always get another cab later.

Sherlock went in the front door to her building and quickly climbed the stairs to her third floor flat. He looked at the coat rack outside her door and quickly concluded that Tom was not there, which he had hoped for of course.

Sherlock fished in his pocket and took out the keys. It was about half past nine, so Molly would likely be lounging in her pajamas, maybe watching some telly. He'd let himself in and gently surprise her. His heart started pounding in his chest just as he was about to put the key in the lock. But he quickly pulled his hand back as he heard Molly's bright cheery voice inside...

"No, honestly, I'm really happy, Meena!" she said with a little laugh. "You don't need to be so worried about me."

Sherlock held his breath.

"I actually feel much better than I have in a very long time. Before, it was like I wasn't really myself. I just feel...free now. All the things that had bothered me before are gone. I had so many worries. And it's just not my problem anymore, you know?"

There was some silence as her friend was clearly talking on the other line.

"I promise you, it's just better this way. My life before was just...it wasn't right, Meena. This is right, I know it. I've never been so sure of anything. I realize it's a big change, but I'm not afraid of that, honestly."

Sherlock swallowed with much difficulty as his mouth had gone completely dry. He stood frozen at the door, hand still poised at the lock.

"Well that's lovely of you to offer, but I don't really think I need help. Most of the work is done anyway. There's not really that much stuff to move and Tom is going to help. I'll be so glad when it's all done!" Sherlock could hear the sound of her crashing down on her sofa.

"Right, then I can just relax and enjoy the peace. I haven't had a lot of peace in my life till now." She let out a long sigh. "Yeah, I know, it's my own doing. But at least I'm actually taking control of my own life now! I'm done with people trying to tell me what to do. I'm smart enough to know what makes me happy!"

Sherlock took a couple of steps away from the door. He'd never felt such a horrible sick feeling. How wrong he'd been, and how furious he was at himself. How had he allowed himself to do this? How could he have promised himself that it would all work out when he was doomed to crash and burning like this? Stupid, stupid!

He turned and fled down the stairs, shoving the keys back in his pocket and wishing he could forget they even existed. He quickly hailed a cab and got in, barking out his Baker Street address. He wanted to get home...he wanted to be nowhere else.

* * *

Molly scratched under Toby's chin as she continued chatting with her friend. "I'll call you tomorrow. I'm meeting Tom in the morning to exchange our things. Like I said, there wasn't that much stuff. I only had two small boxes of his things over here. And there wasn't much more of my things at his flat. It'll be easy; I'm sure...Oh stop! You know that's not why I'm doing this! I doubt there's ever going to be any hope for me and Sherlock. I never really thought there was. I'm not that foolish. Though I suppose it doesn't change the fact that I felt like I was cheating every time I even looked at the big idiot...Yeah, I know, I know! Ok, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Night night!"

* * *

Sherlock got back to Baker Street and knew immediately that someone was there, even before Mrs. Hudson came out to tell him. It was clearly a client, though it must be a serious one for ten at night.

His suspicions were instantly confirmed. This was serious. Here sat Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. Nobody as influential as her would venture out to a private detective at this hour unless there was a dire need. Sherlock detected the scent of Claire de la Lune as he passed by her to sit in his chair.

About a half hour later, when Sherlock had heard the entire tale, he fell silent for a while.

"Mr. Holmes? Mr. Holmes, I have come to you because I cannot imagine anyone else is up to this task. I must know if there is any chance of you being able to stop this man. I cannot live like this, Mr. Holmes, and I imagine that countless others feel the same," she said in a voice of desperation.

Sherlock got up and stood by the window, staring blankly down at the street. It was staggering how much difference an hour or two can make. He would never in a million years have concocted the plan that was currently forming if Lady Smallwood arrived only a couple of hours before.

"There are relatively few ways to even get in contact with Magnussen. I'll leave this here, in case you need it." She set a business card on his side table. "He gave this to me. Said he'd far too busy to deal with everyone personally. Naturally he has a personal assistant."

Sherlock walked back over and picked up the simply card. _Janine Hawkins._ Normally he would have started smiling, because it was all falling into place so beautifully.

But he could only stare back at his client with a bitter expression. Oh yes, he knew exactly what to do. He knew how to get Magnussen's attention, and he knew how to get _to_ him. Of course he would take the case, as he told his client moments later, and he would win too. But he still couldn't smile.

Everything about this case, and how he planned to solve it, was because he was alone.

After Lady Smallwood had left, he made a few phone calls. One of them was to Janine. Oh, it was so easy. In a matter of minutes, he had dinner plans for the following night. He hung up, and the fake smile fell away as he sat back in his chair.

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed. His chance of being open was broken now. There was certainly no changing her mind. There was no going back, so why not do whatever was needed for this case? That was who he would always be anyway, he thought bitterly.

"Go away," he whispered, sick to death of the feelings he was experiencing. He supposed he would soon be able to numb his feelings into nothing.

"Make it go away... _please_."

* * *


End file.
